


The Sun, The Line, and The Cave

by Legionnaire24601



Series: Through the Fires [2]
Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Changelings, Gen, Gumm-Gumms, Trolls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2018-12-13 04:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 18,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11751825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legionnaire24601/pseuds/Legionnaire24601
Summary: “Oğul, the salt mines are not like any other place we’ve been, there is a blackness within the Kubera realm that rivals even that of the Darklands, one can easily lose their way there, for you cannot look to either side or behind you, only straight ahead. You can do everything right while you're down there and even that does not guarantee that you’ll return Walder.”





	1. Basics

The steady drip of water from cavernous walls and the soft brush of air from his own lungs are the only sounds he can identify, as Walder Stricklander tried his best to maintain his balance on the caverns ridge. Beneath the blindfold, sweat dripped into his eyes. He winced. His legs were shaking from holding his semi crouched position. Gripping at the rough stone tightly Walder tried to adjust his footing, inhaling sharply when his knee jammed up against a jagged rock, nearly causing him to lose his hold.  
Irritated, he cursed, and went back to his original position. The pain in his knee a throbbing reminder that he hated this exercise.

“You need the practice oğul” Walder mimicked quietly reaching up to find a better hold. Finding it, he Lifted his left leg to hook his heel into a groove he had felt out.  
Fighting against gravity, He raised himself higher. A small tremor going through the back of his leg at the effort.

“go back to the basics oğul.”

He tried to steady his breathing.  
The fabric obscuring his vision was growing increasingly uncomfortable.

“This isn’t a request oğul, you will go and you will stay there until I tell you to come down.”

Walder sighed, he didn’t know how long he’d been up here,clinging to the rock wall. Time in the Darklands passed differently, Centuries could have passed and he wouldn’t know the difference. He shifted his weight slightly. An uncomfortable twinge went through his arm,and the muscles of his back stiffened from exertion, a cold sweat breaking out between his shoulder blades.  
Gritting his teeth He continued climbing upward.  
“This is ridiculous,” He thought with a groan, “Only trainees are put through this.”

Restlessness was getting the better of him. making sure his foothold was stable,Walder let go with one hand and tore off the blindfold. Immediately he regretted the decision, a horrible whirling sensation assaulted his senses and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as he realized just how high up he was.

Regaining his bearings, Walder shut his eyes and pressed himself closer to the face of the wall. The rough, damp stone scraped against his cheek as He huffed in frustration.  
“Alright,” he mumbled to himself, “that’s enough.”  
He could just picture Sadik’s disapproving golden gaze. 

Gritting his teeth, Walder rolled his neck, and giving a brief glance down to double check his holds He began to work his way back into the Bowels of the Darklands


	2. The adventures of Sigurd and Ashur

“Come on Sigurd!” Ashur laughed as he sidestepped, his sword flashing forward and lightly tapping Sigurd’s blade down, before he pivoted to the left and gave his friend a hearty smack across the shoulders with the flat side of his broadsword. “Did Damascus hit your sword skills out of you?”  
Sigurd yelped, letting out a loud curse, he dropped to one knee, awkwardly shooting out a kick. Ashur felt his leg go out from under him, as Sigurd’s foot caught him behind the knee.  
“Oof”  
He hit the ground hard, the impact leaving him breathless.  
“You talk too much.” Sigurd said standing, taking a few steps back as Ashur got up.  
He feigned to the right offering a quick thrust to the side before he swung the sword into an upward cut.  
Sigurd’s blade flew out of his hand and clattered to the floor. The echo resounded throughout the changeling training hall.

“Well, you say so little, I have to do the talking for the both of us,” Ashur chuckled raising his sword up, “one more go?”  
Sigurd shook his head, his red hair clinging to his forehead. He sent Ashur a glare and went to retrieve his blade.  
Ashur smirked twirling his sword around carelessly.  
” Fine, I’ve grown bored of beating you.”

He made his way to the end of the training circle transforming back into his human form and sat down. The cold wet stone made a pleasant chill go down his spine.  
“How long do you think we’ve been here?” Ashur asked, inspecting his sword for any knicks.  
“Don't know.”  
“Think we’ll leave for the salt mines soon?”  
Sigurd shrugged as he walked towards him, “Maybe.”

For a while they sat in companionable silence, each to his own. Passing the whetstone over his blade Ashur honestly began to wonder how much time had passed since Lake Regillus.  
If i have to ask then We’ve been down in the Darklands too long…  
An idea sparked in his head

Ashur grinned and laid his sword to his side, before making himself more comfortable. He turned to Sigurd opening his mouth to speak, yet Sigurd interrupted him.  
“No.” 

Sigurd didn’t even glance at him, his blue eyes observing the familiar cave.  
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask!”  
“Doesn’t Matter, Answer’s still no.” Sigurd’s eyes were laughing, though his face remained expressionless as ever.

“No one will notice, just for a bit Sigurd.”  
Sigurd gave him a light punch to the shoulder, before rising.  
“No, we are staying here till we’re told otherwise.”  
“Such a good soldier aren't you? Always following orders.” Ashur mocked cheerfully though he couldn’t help but feel a flash of resentment.  
He followed Sigurd out of the cave, nearly running to keep up with his brothers longer stride.  
“I can’t help it you know, I can’t stand being in one place for too long.”  
“You sound like Stricklander.”  
Ashur clutched at his chest and let out a fake gasp,” I know you don’t mean to be hurtful.”  


Sigurd snorted.  
Ashur grinned and fell in step beside Sigurd “Besides no one is as restless as Strickland.”


	3. Do you understand?

The look that Sadik sent him from his desk when he entered his quarters told him instantly that going there was a mistake.  
“What are you doing here? I didn’t tell you to come down.”

“I’d been up there climbing and “breathing” for hours!” Walder gritted out, trying and failing to control his tone.

“You want to stop breathing?” Sadik asked, sending him an unimpressed glance before looking back down at his maps. The snark was enough to set Stricklander off.

“I want you to stop wasting my time! I already know how to climb and breathe and everything else!” Walder snapped back.

Sadik merely blinked at him.

Groaning in frustration Walder ran his hands roughly through his damp hair before striding forward.

“We need to start preparing for the salt mines!” He nearly shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the changeling leader. 

“And all you’ve had me doing is basic training.”

“Walder.” Sadik spoke softly.  
Walder ignored him and started to pace.

“How many brothers and sisters did we lose at Regillus because we were not ready?”

“Walder.”

“I know that there are a lot of things we have little choice on...but this?” Walder pointed to the maps in front of his mentor.  
“This? we can plan… we can prepare... control to the best of our abilities.”

“Walder.”  
“Sadik, I don't want to blindly lead our changelings into another massacre... not again...not if i can help it.”

“You won't be.”

Walder stopped.

“What?” he asked bewildered.

Scratching at his beard, Sadik rose from his seat, his amber eyes pinning Walder with an unreadable stare.  
“You will not be leading our changelings into the salt mines.”

Walder was shocked into silence, not knowing how to react. Shaking his head, he stepped forward, trying to find the words to change Sadik’s mind.

“Sir.”  
Sadik raised his hand, “whatever you are going to say Stricklander it will not change my decision.”  
He swallowed hard.  
“Then who will this responsibility go to?”

“Ashur.”

“Ashur?!!”  
Sadik winced.  
Biting his lower lip, Walder looked away from Sadik fighting his temper and lowered his voice.  
“Why?”

“He has more experience, and I need someone who is used to leading soldiers within enclosed spaces… before you ask, Sigurd will be his second, to rein in his more ….elaborate ...strategies.”

Sadik's tone brokered no argument. And Walder knew that doing so would be pointless. Unhappily, Walder ran his hand over his face, slowly nodding.  
“fine.”

“i do want you, however, to assist me in something else.” Sadik said with a gentle smile as he turned and grabbed one of the maps on his desk. Handing it off to Walder, Sadik elaborated.

“When i was about your age, Quintus and I went to the salt mines for the very same reason we’re going now...it wasn't a successful mission and we barely made it out.”

Sadik sighed wearily before tapping at the map, “ However in the process we found a back way into the deep caverns that someone had created and through it, we escaped”  
He paused seemingly lost in a memory. 

“ Quintus was never quite the same though.”he murmured sadly, before looking back up at Walder.

“Oğul, the salt mines are not like any other place we’ve been, there is a blackness within the Kubera caves that rivals even that of the Darklands, one can easily lose their way there, for you cannot look to either side or behind you, only straight ahead.” Sadik reached and gripped Walders shoulder firmly. 

“That's when you'll need your basics the most” the older changeling stated tiredly.  
Walder shifted uncomfortably feeling slightly guilty.

“And I need to know, that if I tell you to listen to Ashur or to climb out of sight and stay there, that you will do so. The Salt mines are dangerous, You can do everything right while you're down there and even that does not guarantee that you’ll return Walder.”

Sadik gave his shoulder a light squeeze and took the map from Walders hands, placing it back on his desk.  
“Do you understand?.  
Walder stood straight and met Sadik's gaze.  
“Yes sir.”


	4. Shadows

The light coming from the torches behind him casted large foreboding shadows along the caverns walls. Ashur found the moving images to be disturbing, far too reminiscent of the fires at Lake Regillus. Shaking away the thought he looked back down to the task at hand.

You're too small 

Ashur thought quietly as he gently lifted his familiar out of his cradle and tucked him in close to his chest. Beneath his blankets the baby squirmed.  
“You're apt to stay small I'm afraid.” Ashur whispered, watching as the child's black eyes scanned his own features with mild curiosity And finding them worthy the babe broke out into a smile. Ashur couldn't help but smile back.  
“Not much to be done about it… but you don't mind do you?”  
The baby didn't answer, merely gurgled happily and with tiny hands began to fumble with Ashur's clothing, playfully trying to reach his face.  
“ no you of course you don't, you're a lovely child.”  
Ashur grinned, carefully holding on to the child with one arm and playing with his hands with the other.

“Now pay attention please… yes i know That's hard for us… but this is important.”  
“I won't be able to visit you for a while because we’ll be deploying in a few hours and i'll be traveling far, but … when i come back i'll see you first is that acceptable?”

The baby cooed sleepily, and reached for him.  
“Good enough of an answer i guess.”  
Ashur held him closer, planting a soft kiss on the black mop of hair atop the child's head and gingerly placed his familiar back in his cradle.

“you know you're not allowed to be in here right?”

Ashur jumped at the voice and looking over to his left he spotted Walder leaning against the nursery’s stone wall, bouncing his own familiar lightly in his arms.

“I should say the same to you Strickland.” He smiled, looking back at his sleeping familiar briefly before stepping towards the other changeling.  
“you’ve never met a rule you didn't break.”

Walder shrugged and adjusted his familiar more securely in his arms. It made no difference the child continued to squirm.  
Ashur bit back a laugh.  
” fussy little thing aren't you?”  
He reached out and Walder handed off the baby to him cautiously, Moving his head back swiftly to avoid a small fist from making contact with his nose.  
“Can't help it,” Walder sighed as his familiar gripped his finger with both hands, “We’re high spirited and need something soothing.”  
Walder looked around at the lit cave.  
“there has to be more to our world than shadows on a wall.”

The low timbre of a horn resounded throughout the Darklands nursery and the hall was filled with surprised cries of infants.  
Walder’s familiar struggled more in Ashur's arms, though he did not cry out with the rest. The shadows shifted and moved across the walls. A sense of unease filled him.  
“It's time.”  
Walder’s green eyes glinted gold as he took the child back into his arms.  
“So it seems.”


	5. Shield wall!

Pikes met shields and blades in a turbulent clash. The thunderous roar of battle seemingly never ending as the sounds echoed along the cavernous walls of the Silvius Tribes mountain stronghold.  
The battle growing so loud that Walder could feel the vibrations of the echos throughout his entire body.

General Ruz’s attack had been an absolute disaster and he had effectively turned tail, abandoning not only the changelings but his gumm-gumm soldiers as well. Walder might have let himself enjoy the stupefied looks on their faces if the situation wasn't so dire. The remaining Gumm-Gumm forces and the changelings were now fighting desperately to escape the tunnels.

“You! Form a Shield wall at the rear!”  
Walder could hear Ashur roaring at a group of Ruz’s abandoned soldiers. “Now!”  
Walder found himself surprised, that for once, the soldiers listened without question, disappearing in the chaos to join some of the changelings in the back line.  
“Medina!” Walder called out half worried that his voice might get lost in the fray. Hearing him Ashur caught his gaze and grinned. 

“Strickland! I need another Shield wall at our front! These Silvius bastards have managed to circle back around us!” He grunted impaling a warrior with a half broken spear, growling in frustration as another troll took its place.  
“We need to push through the exit.”  
Ashur grunted as he ducked under a sword. The troll prepared to take another swing and Walder stepped forward sliding a knife across its neck, ignoring the wetness that drenched his hand as the soldier crumbled. 

Ashur clapped him on his shoulder and Walder tried not to wince as a flash of pain skirted through his arm.  
“Four lines at the rear!” Ashur yelled at their soldiers.  
He turned back to Walder.  
“And four lines at the front,”Ashur panted.  
Walder looked around at the chaos all around them.  
That's impossible.

Walders protest must have shown on his face for Ashur leaned in close, his black eyes glittered dangerously.  
“It's not impossible, For once don't argue, We need to break their lines or none of us will get out, understand?” Ashur growled pushing Walder back.  
“Get it done little brother.”

 

 

**

 

He'd lost track of time.

his sword slid uneasily into the chest of a guard as the changeling front line pushed against the last of the Silvius soldiers. Every movement was taking more effort than the last. Walder gasped for air, trying to steady himself but his strength was faltering. He could see the exit of the stronghold.  
Almost there.

Walder somewhat registered giving the order to push through, but suddenly they were outside. The Silvian ranks buckled and shattered. Walder blinked in surprise at the loss of resistance as he staggered forward.  
Moonlight glittered and reflected brightly against the snow, effectively blinding him temporarily. Wincing Walder tried to step back into the mountains cave entrance but a troll grabbed his shield with a swiftness he did not expect and instantly Walder was pulled forward past the remaining Silvius soldiers. 

His air supply was brutally cut off as the fastening of his cloak snapped back against his throat. Off balance Walder felt himself fall onto the ground in a spray of snow and dirt. With a groan Walder blinked a glance at the Silvius warrior that had a hold of his cape, before he was being dragged roughly against the snow covered field. Ice and mud cutting mercilessly into his back.

He couldn't breathe.  
His vision began to darken.  
Panicking, Walder twisted violently, swinging his sword backward in a desperate cut towards his opponent's arm. The blade slid into the trolls wrist and it roared in pain. Feeling the pressure on his neck loosen Walder staggered to his feet.  
Freezing cold air filled his lungs as he heaved in a deep gasping breath, trying to regain his bearings.  
The Troll cursed at him, and Walder failed to spin around in time to avoid the staff of the poleax from hitting the side of his head, the force of the blow sending him into a tree.

Disoriented, Walder hit the ground again, hard, barely registering the sensation of something warm trailing down his temple. His vision blurred.  
The ground trembled as the Silvius warrior made his approach, and instinctively Walder rolled forward, the spike of the poleax embedding itself in the trunk of the tree.

Walder grasped at the cold wet snow as he struggled feebly to get back in his feet. The sounds of the fight were fading fast the longer he fought to remain conscious. He rolled over to see The Silvian warrior raised his weapon up high, the distinctive violet eyes of his species glittered triumphantly.  
Walder breathed in deeply, as the poleax made its descent.  
The Troll shuddered suddenly and the weapon hit the ground next to his head useless. Walder looked back up to see an Arrowhead protruding from the warrior's chest, his violet eyes dimmed as he fell over.

Walder's eyes flickered as a dark figure stepped from the woods. The snow crunched loudly as It knelt down next to him. 

“Oğul, can you hear me?” Sadik's golden eyes flickered with concern.  
Walder nodded and smiled tiredly, “ Tell Ashur, i got it done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a very late update, Seeing as I've started school again updates will be slower in the future.


	6. Loyalty

It had been easy enough, finding Ruz. The Silvian warriors were being dealt with by their remaining forces and Ashur found slipping away into the dark unseen to be laughably simple. The General had fled like the coward that he was, and he had made little effort to hide his path. Broken tree branches and disturbed snow damned him as surely as his announcement to the Silvian trolls that they were coming damned their regiment. 

Shaking his head, Ashur tried to clear his thoughts, Focusing only on his breathing. It made no difference, hot anger coursed through him sharp and painful.  
The thick snow made progress difficult but Ashur gripped the Silvian spear tighter and pushed forward, ignoring the numbness that was settling into his limbs.

“You can't do this…” a voice sounding vaguely like Sigurd broke through his thoughts  
“He's Gunmars general are you out of your mind?” 

“I can, I will” Ashur thought aggressively before fighting the urge to laugh out loud. He smiled grimly Perhaps he was out of his mind. 

The familiar displeased tone of his friend might have persuaded him to turn back under normal circumstances, but the sight of Ruz's large, kneeling form chased away the thoughts and gave way to flashes of His brothers trapped within the Silvian mountain; the dark acceptance in Sigurds eyes as their forces were being encircled. Finnian's panicked helplessness as he struggled to breathe. Strickland’s unconscious and bleeding form. All of it could have been avoided had Ruz kept his grotesquely large mouth shut… but then if he had, he wouldn't be Ruz. Ashur smiled as he crouched down low into the snow careful to not make a sound.

“I can hear you, impure.” Ruz growled not bothering to turn.  
Ashur frowned and held onto the spear so hard he worried it might shatter.

“You're not as young as you once were,”The General continued.  
Ashur looked around in surprise realizing that the Gumm-Gumm was talking to someone else. Ruz gave off a wheezing laugh before he broke off in a coughing fit.

“I'm afraid neither of us are Ruz,” Sadik stated simply as he walked out of the shadows in front of the General. The softly falling snow turned Sadik’s dark hair silver in the moonlight. And Ashur knew what the Head of the Janus Order intended to do even before he knocked the arrow into his bow string.  
“What madness overtook you that you thought of sending advanced notice of our march to our enemies?”

“Truthfully?”  
“Yes.”  
“I hoped to kill you… all of you… i suppose half will do.” 

If Sadik was shocked he hid it well.

“Gunmar relies on your kind too much… and...your changelings...You trained them well, they are loyal… loyal only to their own… all things considered, i can't say i blame them but you can imagine how this will pose a problem in our future.”

“hmm,” Sadik nodded letting out a soft, misty breath, and pulled back on the bow, taking aim.

“Gunmar will find out you know,” Ruz coughed spitting black bile onto the ground. “he always finds out, and after? What then?”

“I suppose i'll just have to endure the consequences,” Sadik replied, his eyes shifting between red and gold as the arrow hissed through the air.  
Ashur winced as the Gumm-Gumm general's body slumped over.  
And the spear in his hands snapped in two, causing Sadik's head to snap up.  
“Medina?”

Ashur Struggled to get up, the cold making his movements stiff and awkward.  
“Sir.”  
“How much …” Sadik let the question drop. His golden eyes met Ashur’s tiredly.  
They stared at each other.  
“ I’ll send news to Gunmar,” Ashur murmured breaking the silence and ignoring Sadik's worried glance. Ashur kicked at the ground and began walking towards the trolls corpse. The silvian spear in his fist, glinted bright blue despite the night.  
The sharp sound of the spear striking true filled the air.  
Ashur stepped back and sent a small grin towards Sadik. Sadik glanced back grim and tired.  
“General Ruz fell to his Silvian enemies…”


	7. Here’s to Ruz

The warhorns are echoing far too loudly,  
There's a shearing pain lancing through his shoulder and suddenly He’s screaming but the sound is lost.

The rattling of shields moving in unison are overwhelming.  
There’s a disorienting roaring in his ears and He can no longer tell if it’s from clash of weapons or from his own heart.

The light of the moon reflects sharply off lake water.  
There’s a burning in his lungs and He panics because he can’t breathe.

The world is nothing but flickering flames and dancing shadows.  
There’s nothing he can do as he is dragged into darkness.

 

Walder awoke with a start, gasping in cold air, wincing as a fresh wave of agony reverberated through his skull. He blinked in the dark, his vision slowly merging back into focus. Panic gripped him as he recognized where he was. The Silvian cavernous walls loomed overhead, veins of silver seeped and poured out of the rocks carved and patterned surface.  
Breathing heavily Walder struggled to get up only to realize to his horror that he was tied in place to a makeshift stone cot.  
Fire flared up his spine and shoulder as he struggled against his restraints.

“Walder…stop.” A weary voice rasped out in the dark.  
“Finnian?”  
Blinking Walder twisted to his left to see where his fellow changeling was. On another cot just an arm's length away, Finnian lay on his side and stared at Walder with shadowed blue eyes. The changeling offered a weak smile.  
“You wouldn’t stop thrashing around, Sadik worried you’d worsen your injuries.”

Reluctantly Walder stopped struggling and rolled back to face the ceiling with a sigh.  
“How long have i been unconscious?”

“I don’t know. I woke up only a couple of days ago.” Finnian spoke his voice gruff from disuse.  
“We won?”  
“Aye obviously, not much of a win though… we lost…” the changeling paused “we lost many.”  
A dull ache settled in his chest and Walder squeezed his eyes shut taking in deep laborious breaths willing the sensation to leave. It did not.

“Ruz is dead if it’s any consolation.”  
Walder whipped his head around to stare at his brother.  
“What?”  
Finnian’s bright blue eyes glowed red as he flashed a rare smile.  
Walder smiled back and returned to his silent observations of the Silvian walls, “good...never liked him.”  
A comfortable silence filled the space between them and Walder felt himself drifting back to sleep when Finnian chuckled.  
“What is so amusing?”  
“Remember when Ruz and Dysis competed for Gunmar’s favor?”  
Walder grinned, “which time?”  
Finnian gave a rough laugh.  
“Acropolis of Athens.”  
“Mmm no,” Stricklander murmured, “bit before my time Finn.”

“Ah right… well we were sent out to take Gunmar’s terms to Orlagk’s few remaining supporters who had fled to Greece after his fall.”  
“Sounds simple enough.”  
“Doesn’t it always brother?” Finnian tittered, “anyway I went with Sadik and Quintus to deliver the message…”  
Walder grinned, “Orlagk’s forces didn’t actually let the three of you in did they?”  
“They did.”  
“Bad move.”  
“Indeed it was, but before we were able to properly rid ourselves of Gunmar’s enemies guess who shows up?”  
“Dysis and Ruz.” Walder answered rolling his eyes as Finnian laughed.

“It was a fantastic mess, they were just devastating Orlagk’s soldiers, while also trying to end each other , Sadik was screaming at them at the top of his lungs and Quintus… Quintus was desperately trying to get us to leave.”  
“So what happened?”  
“What happened? what didn’t happen Strickland?” Finnian guffawed before he broke off coughing.  
Walder shifted back to look at him.  
The changeling regained control of his breathing and flashed him a reassuring smile. 

“I’m alright, Ruz got a shield to the face when he made an uncalled for comment about Dysis’s mother, Orlagk’s soldiers were discretely exiting out the back, and somehow… someone released an infernal hellheeti. ”  
“No.”  
“Yes!”  
“Incredible.”  
“Whole place was burnt, the soldiers escaped and Gunmar was furious...luckily there wasn’t much suspicion from the humans because of the Heruli invasion but we cut it close.”  
Walder grinned, “I’ll give Ruz that, he had an incredible talent for mucking things up for us ‘impure.’”  
“Here’s to Ruz, selfish and cowardly to the end!” Finnian saluted from his cot.  
“He won’t be missed.” Walder answered cheerfully as the ache in his chest eased.


	8. The Captain

The wharf had seen better days. It was old, and the wide wooden planks were showing signs of rot. Yet, despite its decrepit appearance, it did not stop the local villagers from setting up shop. Merchants and Fishermen shouted out the names of their products to potential customers in the hopes for a sale. The sharp scents of fish and unknown flowers drifted through the air along the pier.  
Humans shuffled and pushed, but as soft brown eyes peered up shyly beneath dark lashes, Ashur ignored it all, his smile widening, as the farmgirls’ blush deepened.  
“So… may I see you tonight my dear?” He asked quietly taking her hands and lightly brushing his thumb against her knuckles. She nodded.  
“Excellent! Now, I’ll meet you here at …”  
“Ashur!”  
Ashur grunted in protest as Sigurd’s hand shot out seemingly from thin air and pulled him away from the pomegranate stand. The girl’s pretty eyes widened in surprise and Sigurd attempted to offer the girl a small apologetic smile, though it came across as more of a grimace.  
Mortified, she ducked her head and busied herself rearranging pomegranates, refusing to look at either one of them. Ashur laughed as he was dragged away and catching her gaze sent her a wink, before he shoved Sigurd away.  
“Couldn’t you see that I was having a conversation?”  
“I did,” Sigurd huffed looking uncomfortable, “and so did her brother.”  
At that, Ashur followed his brother’s gaze to see a large barrel of a man scowling at them from a shadowed corner of the tented stand. His dyed red hands brandished a large knife as he glared at them.  
Amused, Ashur sent him a grin, delighted, when the merchant flushed angrily, rising from his seat just as Sigurd roughly grabbed Ashur by the collar of his jerkin and pulled him into the crowd.

“Will you stop that?”  
“It has been too long since I’ve interacted with a lovely human Sigurd,” Ashur smirked, twisting out of his friends grip and maneuvering effortlessly through wharf’s crowd.  
“And war is lonely work.”  
“Your loneliness can wait, brother,” Sigurd sighed, running a hand through his red hair.  
“We have to meet Sadik, We're late.”

 

*****

 

As it turned out they were very late.  
Ashur rapped his knuckles against the caupona’s desk to get the clerk's attention, while Sigurd peered across the heavily shadowed inn’s sparse lodgings.  
“We are here to see the Thracian, and a man named Viator,” He said watching the elderly man jump at the sound of the rap. The man turned, and gave him a once-over, eyeing Ashur suspiciously before nodding to the furthest corner.  
“They’re over there.” The old caupo wheezed.  
Catching Sigurd’s attention, Ashur turned away without a word, feeling the old man’s stare burn into his back as he made his way towards the table.  
Dressed in his dark leathers, Sadik sat across from a massive stranger who was currently tearing into what appeared to be a whole chicken.  
“Sir?”  
Relief flitted across Sadik’s amber gaze as he looked over to them, flinching just as his companion successfully tore the boiled chicken in two.  
Ashur winced and swallowed thickly at the sight, glancing at a very disturbed looking Sigurd before taking a seat next to his commander.

“Captain Viator,” Sadik coughed politely, flicking away bits of flesh from his sleeve, “ allow me to introduce you to Ashur and Sigurd two of my soldiers.”  
“My Boys, this is Captain Viator Modestus.”  
Viator looked up from his meal, and huffed.  
“How many more Turks will I be bringing.” The Captain casted a mistrustful glance at Ashur.  
“ I thought I had only this one to deal with.” Viator growled, pointing a chicken leg at Sadik.  
Sadik merely smiled though there was no humor in his eyes  
“I’m Syrian,” Ashur whispered, placing his hand against his chest in mock hurt.  
Viator threw his head back and laughed.  
Wiping a tear from his eye, Viator chuckled,“You’re funny, so I’ll chose to overlook it.”  
Sigurd and Ashur exchanged a look.  
“How kind of you.” Ashur murmured not bothering to hide the annoyance from his tone.

The Captain raised a brow and grinned, flashing a row of yellowing teeth before he bit into the chicken, grease ran from his lips and into his graying beard.  
Ashur frowned.  
“This one doesn't like me.” Viator smiled, pointing a thick finger at Ashur, while glancing at Sadik.  
“Perhaps, I’ll chose not to like him either.”  
“He likes you just fine,” Sadik smiled disarmingly at the Captain before looking at Ashur.  
“Don’t you Medina?”  
The warning was clear.  
“I like him just fine Sir,” Ashur nodded, putting on his best smile.  
It seemed to work because the Roman noticeably was put at ease.

“Fine. Now to business Thracian,” Viator grunted cleaning his hands on his shirt.  
“I’ll have to ship your people across the Ionian, We’ll stop at Athens for resupply and then make way to the capital, Constantinople, and that is where I leave you.”  
The Captain leaned forward, tapping the table, and stroking his beard, “It’s quite the journey.”

“If it’s the cost that concerns you…”  
“It’s the risk that concerns me Sadik, there are pirates and I will need some extra insurance… you know how it is.”

“Hmm,” Sadik nodded, “Sigurd.”  
Ashur looked over to witness his brother to lift a sack from under the table and place it on the surface between Sadik and Viator. Silver spilling from the opening.

“Where were you keeping that?” he whispered.  
“Shut up.” Sigurd hissed.

Viator smiled.“More.”

With a huff Sigurd produced another bag.  
“Is this why you didn’t want to go through the wharf? Because you were carrying all that around?”  
“Shut up.”

“More.”  
Growling now Sigurd placed a third bag on the table, irritation coming off of him in waves.  
Ashur inhaled to ask another question but was cut off by the glare Sigurd sent him.  
He smiled instead.

“This will do.”  
Across from them the Captain happily gathered all three bags and stood.  
“Turk, Syrian, Ginger, it’s been a pleasure… I shall see you at the docks in two days time.” 

Shaking his head Sadik said nothing, stood and began to walk out. Ashur and Sigurd moved to follow.  
“The Tenebris! That's the name of my ship!” Viator’s voice followed them as they left.  
“What a pain.” Ashur broke the silence as they left the inn. "Why did we hire him?"  
"He was the only one willing to take all of us."  
Sadik groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“Sigurd, Are the Silivian babes ready for transport?”  
“Yes sir.”  
“Ashur, Have Walder organize Ruz’s soldiers to take them back to Gunmar. And have our changelings mine more silver.”  
“Yes, Sir.”  
“I want it done before we leave.”  
“yes , Sir.” Ashur and Sigurd echoed.  
Sadik stopped and turned. “The two of you have the rest of the evening to yourselves.”  
“If you have any plans with anyone,” Sadik pinned Ashur with a pointed look, “Enjoy but do stay out of trouble, please, for me.”  
“Why Sadik.” Ashur smirked, "When have I ever gotten in trouble?"  
Sadik offered him a tired smile and shook his head in exasperation before he turned and disappeared into the wharf's crowds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future Chapters are going to be longer, hopefully i can start updating on a more regular basis.


	9. Until you've lived it

The Romans were not known for their sailing, a fact that was uncomfortably reflected in their ships. The Tenebris gave another lurch to the side, and Walder was once again reminded that while he was fond of sailing, he would like to be on another ship, preferably one that didn’t sound like it could snap in two at any moment. Keeping his balance, Walder wandered along the railing and stared into the night fog. Adjusting his cloak tighter around him, he closed his eyes. Ignoring the spray of the sea, he listened to the stroke of the oars and the snapping of the sails as the Tenebris slowly but surely beat her way through the calm waters of the Hellespont. 

“Lovely Night, wouldn’t you agree Strickland?” Sadik’s voice came in from his right.  
“ How can you tell?” Walder huffed small laugh and motioned with a hand, towards the thick grey mist that had draped itself over the open water, obscuring everything in sight. He turned to look at Sadik. The older changeling said nothing but offered him a benign smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before stepping closer to the rail and gazing out into the fog.

“Does it feel strange returning home?”

Sadik favored him with a half glance. “I’m afraid it hasn't been my home for some centuries Walder.”  
“But yes…” He ran a hand through his damp hair and adjusted his cloak against the spindrift. “It does feel a bit odd coming back.”  
Sadik drew in a deep breath, his amber eyes drifted heavenward before closing briefly. “Very odd indeed.”  
Walder’s mouth grew tight. “Is everything alright, Sir?” Sadik had always been the quiet sort but this… this felt different.  
Sadik’s brow furrowed but he didn't answer. Instead he swiftly pulled out a missive from the inside of his cloak and held it out.  
Walder could feel dread stirring inside him.  
“Finnian sent word from the Darklands.” he let out a harsh breath, scratching at his beard as Walder took the letter.  
His eyes moved over the words. At first they made no sense to him, but all too soon the meaning became clear.  
Walder stiffened. He didn't bother to read the rest. Clenching his teeth, he refolded the message and handed it back to Sadik. Though the movement was not without struggle. He wanted nothing more than to tear the parchment to shreds.

As Sadik returned the letter back into his cloaks pocket, an uncomfortable silence descended between the two.  
The Tenebris swayed against the waves of the Hellespont.

“It was decided, after Regillus, that the familiars of our fallen could be put to use… once again.” Sadik said lifting his face towards the spray as if the sea could wash the memories away.  
“They are reusing our Familiars,” Walder stated bitterly.  
“Yes.”  
“So the Silvian whelps we sent back…”  
‘Will be the first generation wave of replacements.” Sadik finished  
Did you even try to fight for them? Walder thought as he glared at him.  
For a moment the older Changelings expression gave nothing away. Sadik’s gold eyes shifted from Walder, to the mist covered sea, then back to him, before sadness clouded his features and he turned to lean against the railing.

“They deserved better.” Walder said icily.  
“I am aware Walder.” Sadik replied wearily, again running a hand through his dark hair. The lines of his hair that ran white were more noticeable in the pale starlight and for the first time since he’d known him, Walder saw that Sadik was beginning to look his age. Disquiet filled him and the anger in his chest slowly disappeared 

“An entire generation of Changelings raised without their Human fosters, and only a slight understanding of loyalty. You are in for quite the workload ahead of you oğul.” Sadik gave a humorless chuckle as he crossed his arms over his chest.  
Walder snapped his gaze at him. “Sir?”

“The new Trollhunter is finishing the work that Damascus started, what's worse is she’s gathering more followers then he ever managed. Dreya the Deliverer they are already calling her. “ Sadik scoffed “No doubt Gunmar is infuriated. He will want to end her as he did her predecessor, and he'll expect me to be at the front … again.”  
The changeling shook his head and sighed.  
“In truth, I am too old for this. Win or Lose, Walder, this will be my last war.”  
His worry must of shown itself on his face because the corners of Sadik’s lips turned up as he looked at him fondly. 

“Don’t look so scared my boy. Perhaps fate will be kind to you and the Order will choose another.”  
Irritation welled up inside him and Walder scoffed.  
Sadik’s golden eyes gleamed as he studied him.

“You ought to temper your ambition, fly too close to the sun my dear Icarus and you’ll find yourself losing your wings. If you knew what it was, If you knew what it meant… why, you’d wonder how anyone in their right mind would want to lead the Janus Order.” Sadik frowned.

“Half the time you’re worrying that you’ll botch the battles and the other half you’ll find yourself unable to distinguish your enemies from your friends.”  
The changeling shook his aging head. “Ah, but you won’t believe me until you’ve lived it.”  
Sadik rolled his shoulders and motioned towards the entrance to the hull of the ship.  
“Enough of that. Go on now Strickland, get some rest, you’ll need it for the battles ahead.”  
He smiled affectionately and turned.The dismissal was clear.  
Reluctantly Walder made his way down towards the stair entry to the Tenebris’ Hull. He glanced back.

The slowly rising fog had gotten thicker. Onward it had crept, rolling over the waters of the Hellespont an imposing wall of grey. Leaning against the railing and seemingly lost in his own thoughts Sadik stood alone.  
With a soft sigh, Walder made his way down into the unlit hull.


	10. The Krubera Cave

The crescent moon was slowly rising through the dark grey clouds, its pale fractured light stood in stark contrast against the darkening indigo sky, Turning the grassy mountain range an ominous silver gray. The wind whistled through the tall blades of grass, picking up dirt and debri through the air.  Drawing his cloak around him, Ashur shivered. On most nights he might have taken the time to observe the stars, but the only thing that truly drew his eyes was the the pitch black entrance to the Krubera Cave.

The small crevice opening was situated as such within the Ukrajina mountain range that one could miss it if one didn't know where to look. It was a small wonder no one in their party had fallen in the first time they had marched through the area. 

 

Ashur winced at the thought and sighed.

As it was when they finally did notice it, Sadik had taken little time to order Strickland and Sigurd as well as a handful of scouts to climb down and search. What they were searching for Ashur did not know. But they had been gone for over a fortnight. And he’d be lying if the lack of news didn’t make him anxious. He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the sense of unease, but as he looked at the pitch inky mouth of the Krubera cave, its unassuming opening littered with ropes and harnesses, all he could feel was dread.

 

The soft scents of rain and damp grass filled his lungs as he breathed in deeply. Ignoring the dampness of the ground Ashur kneeled and  gently tugged at the set of ropes that were  anchored to the jagged boulders that were scattered along the entrance. He frowned, and tightened the descenders. 

 

“Sigurd will return unharmed Ashur.” 

Sadik’s voice came in from behind him.

Ashur rose and turned. 

The head of the Janus order peered down at him sympathetically.

 

“Oh I know he will, he’s my Brother, I know he can handle himself but it doesn’t stop me from worrying.”

Ashur winked at Sadik. “But you know how it is.”

Sadik nodded and crossed his arms, the dark leather gambeson he wore creaked loudly with the movement.

“Besides, they’ll be here soon I can feel it.’

“Oh?”

“Sigurd and I are sib bonded remember.”

“Right, of course,” Sadik said rubbing at his beard.

A sudden thought occured to Ashur in that moment. “Do you think Gunmar’s Alchemists are going to continue the practice with the new trolls we sent them?”

Sadik’s face twisted briefly.

“The process of creating our kind is difficult enough Ashur, and while bonding two trolls with their selected familiars with one spell certainly saves time, the bond it creates between the resulting two changelings is not something Gunmar understands nor approves of.”

Sadik’s frown deepened.

“You and Sigurd always seem to know where the other is regardless of how much time and distance is between you.”

At this the ropes along the edge of the krubera cave rattled against their fastenings. Ashur grinned. “Told you.”

The older changelings eyes flashed gold  briefly with amusement, but all too quickly clouded over again. “Gunmar wants changelings to be loyal to him, and only him Ashur, he sees these bonds as a threat. So no my boy,  as far as I am aware you and Sigurd are the last changelings that will ever be created by the process.”

 

He opened his mouth to respond, when a fatigued voice came from the mouth of the cave.

“I hate to interrupt your conversation, I have no doubt it is very interesting but if it wouldn't be too much of an issue would either of you please get me out of here?”

 

Ashur turned to see Walder peering up at them. His black hair was plastered to his forehead and he was breathing heavily from the climb.

 

“Yes, one moment please,” Turning back to Sadik, Ashur stuck his nose pompously in the air and waved his hand idly. “As i was saying Sadik, the Romans invention of Concrete four centuries ago, released them of the typical architectural constraints of…”

 

“Help me!” Stricklander growled, as Sadik bent his head to hide his smile.

Ashur turned to send him a look of mock severity, “Strickland, can’t you see I am having a conversation?” 

He grinned as Strickland’s green eyes rolled upward in annoyance. 

“Fine.” Ashur sighed. He kneeled by the entrance of the Krubera cave and stretched out his hand.

“Let’s get you out of there little brother.”

Walder reached over and with a sharp tug Ashur pulled him out.

“How was it?”

“I'd rather be in the Darklands.” Walder said brushing off his clothes.

Ashur peered down the hole in surprise. “Surely you jest.”

Walder shook his head, “better the enemy i know.” 

Behind Stricklander a mop of red hair popped out of the ground.

Sigurd growled as he scrambled to find his grip on the damp ground. Laughing Ashur moved to help him out but Sigurd waved him off. Once above ground, His blue eyes glinted grey in the moonlight and he had a curious expression on his face as he looked down at Ashur. 

“What?”

“Were you talking about me before I got here?”

Ashur  flashed him a mischievous smile, and clapped him on the back. “No, not at all.”

* * *

 

“It’s a three weeks decent to the Entrance to the Krubera Tribes realm, there is also a seperate entrance that can allow our troops to enter on the other end.”

 

“How convenient… what is the catch?”

 

“They’ll have to swim.”

“Is it deep?”

“Not really, and it's not a far swim, but whoever you send will have to forgo shields.”

Ashur watched Walder’s shadow grow to an enormous size as he stood near the firepit. The flames danced and waved in the night breeze as Strickland opened the iron pot that hung just above the fire. He made a face at the contents inside but plopped a decent amount of the slop within into his bowl.

Ashur scratched at the back of his neck.

 

“Hmmm fine we’ll send our swimmers through. They can take maybe one or two swords at the most. If there is one thing I learned from the Silvian debacle is that once encircled, soldiers tend to panic, if we are to win, we’ll need to keep the Krubera panicking.” Ashur said bitterly as he pushed the pale mush around in his bowl.

“What else?”

 

“There is a bit of a tight squeeze in the crevice that leads to the second tunnel.”

 

“How tight?”

Strickland set the bowl on his knees and raised his hands to demonstrate. “Just so.”

Ashur frowned. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I fit.”

“Easy for you Walder  but not all of us are twigs .”

Walder ignored the comment and set back to moving his food around.

He frowned, “All these centuries Sadik and you still can't cook anything other than hot mush?”

Sadik sent him a deadpan glance.

“I've become quite proficient at cold mush as well.”

 

Walder snorted, and looked back up at Ashur.

“Also when dealing with King Aaryan I think it be best if you send out a scout team to lead him back to your main force, the Krubera are a large race but the narrow cave tunnels will force them to attack in small groups, three to four abreast at most or individually.”

 

Ashur looked up from his bowl and pursed his lips thoughtfully, “Surely he will see the catch.” 

Walder shook his head.

“He surely will not. Aaryan is a troll more given to acting than thinking, trust me Ashur it will work.”

Next to him, Sadik tightened his cloak about him and stared into the fire.

“It will have to work Ashur, You and Sigurd are to be the only commanders there. I want you to start the descent soon, tonight if possible, Walder and I will be leaving for the city of Bucephala before first light.” 

  
“Which City?”

Confused Ashur looked to Walder, who gave a slight shrug. Sadik blinked in realization and chuckled. 

“Forgive me old… old habit..., we will be traveling to Jhelum.”

Shaking his head Sadik tossed what was left of his meal into the fire and walked off.

Ashur turned to Walder.

“So…. do you want to wake the others? Or should I?”

 

* * *

 

“Weapons?”

Someone in the lines sighed. 

“Yes.”

“Shields?” 

Another sigh.

“yes.”

“Horngazel?”

“Got it.”

“Everyone have their Lumus Crystals?” Ashur asked loudly to the others.

“Yes Mother,”His fellow changelings grumbled in unison.

“Alright, Alright just checking.” Ashur  huffed and bit his lip.

“What about..?”

“Ashur.” Sigurd whispered at his side. “We’re as ready as we’ll ever be, It’s time to go.” 

“Right.”

Clapping his hands Ashur moved in front of the first line of soldiers.

“We are here to obtain Lord Gunmar’s eye, If we engage the Krubera lethal force is authorized.”   

No one moved. Ashur cringed.

“That’s it, That’s all I have to say, keep up, don't fall… please don’t fall.”

With that Ashur stalked over to the entrance of the Krubera cave and looked up.

The moon shone brighter than usual, and Ashur observed it almost reverently hoping to commit the sight to memory. 

Just in case.

He gave Sigurd a pained grin, gripped the rope firmly and taking a deep breath  Ashur lowered himself into the Krubera Cave.


	11. The Salt mines

He can’t see. And with his back and chest pressed up as they were against the small crevice entry to the Khewra salt mine, Walder can’t really breathe either.   
Somewhere in front of him Sadik huffed in the dark.  
“Keep moving Walder.”  
Stricklander rolled his eyes and wiggled a bit trying to get into the main tunnel. The effort caused specks of salt to fall into his hair and up his nose as he struggled to breathe.   
He sneezed.  
Not far away, he heard Sadik sigh.  
“Exhale, Strickland. And as you breathe out roll your shoulders in. you’ll be free to move then.”   
Annoyed with himself for having forgotten that tiny bit of basic training, Walder did as he was told, giving a sharp yelp of surprise as the effect was instant and he crashed through the tunnel, landing unceremoniously on the floor. Salt and dust wrafted upward. 

Sadik’s amber eyes glittered gold in the dark as he looked down at him. “Oğul…” He warned.  
Walder scrambled to his feet, “I know I know, remember the basics,”   
He sneezed again.

Sadik gave no response but handed him back his satchel.  
“Come now we’re wasting time, we have to travel through the mine and open the entry into the Krubera cave.” The changeling already started walking.

“We’re miles away. How is it possible for this salt mine to be attached to the Krubera cave?” Walder asked curiously pulling out a Lumus Crystal. He transformed, the air crackled with the energy of his changeling magic. Shaking the crystal once, he took one of his knives and scraped the blade against its edge. the crystal began to glow a pale blue that illuminated the cavern.   
Transforming back Walder jogged to catch up with Sadik.  
The older changeling shook his head.  
“Prior to the wars between the Gumm-Gumms and the rest of Trollkind, the Krubera Realm was one of the largest kingdoms in the world.”   
Sadik scratched idly at his beard.  
“The Salt Mines and the Krubera caves were once connected by various bridges. Miners would take the deposits of Salt and return them to the royal family who in turn found ways to enhance the salts healing properties through magic. During times of war, you can imagine how demand for those crystals grew.”   
Sadik reached over and took the Lumus from Walder’s hand and shined its light ahead of them.   
A large wall blocked their path, a small opening at the top being the only way past it. He made no move towards it and continued to talk.

“The Violence between the Humans and Trolls escalated to horrific proportions and eventually spilled into the Krubera realm, thousands of the Krubera kind were massacred. They were almost wiped out” The changeling paused, “Kruberan Trolls are different in that they are deeply connected to each other, if one is sick or wounded, they all feel it. When Alexander the Great found this salt mine, the Krubera, unwilling to fight for their territory for fear of losing more of their kin, closed the Mine and blocked the bridges leading to their main stronghold.”  
“Just Blocked?”  
Sadik’s gold eyes glinted as he nodded.

“Give me a boost.”  
Obediently, Walder interlocked his fingers to make a haphazard foothold. Sadik stepped up and with a grunt Walder lifted him to the hole in the wall.  
Sadik peered inside, tapping along the edge of the wall, before giving the signal to let him down.  
“It’s just a wall of pure salt, either we can knock it down, and risk a cave in or we find another way through.”   
Walder blinked at him, “you want me to decide?”   
Sadik nodded and stepped back. “Make a decision and live with the consequences, as the head of the Janus order that will your prerogative.”  
Strickland could only stare at him.   
“The cave could collapse.”  
“Yes.”  
“With us in it.”  
Sadik smiled.“Remember, our soldiers if they are successful will be waiting to escape through these tunnels, but they need us to let them through. The longer you wait, the longer they are in enemy territory… so decisions.”

Walder swallowed thickly and looked back at the cave wall. Taking out a small axe from his satchel he tapped the blunt end of the weapon along the wall, testing for thickness. Instead of giving some indication that the wall was not supporting the tunnel as he had hoped, as flecks of salt and rock tumbled off the wall, the cavern rumbled in displeasure.  
He looked over his shoulder.  
Sadik continued to give him a smile that told him nothing of what he was thinking.  
Worrying at the collar of his tunic, Walder took a small step back. Twirling the axe in between his fingers. He came to a decision.  
Walder Stricklander swung the axe straight at the wall.


	12. The fun begins

“Are you out your Goddamn mind?”

 

Sigurd growled to the trembling changeling in front of him.  
Ashur tried to seperate the two changelings to no avail.  
“That’s enough.”  
“He nearly caused a cave in.”  
“But he didn’t, Sigurd let it go we have to move on.”  
“No.” His brother snapped.  
“Lujain was nearly crushed because of him.”

Ashur sighed and backed off.  
“What’s your name?” He asked the terrified orange changeling currently being shaken violently by Sigurd.  
“Niilo.” The changeling wheezed, his bright brown eyes wide with panic.  
“Right, right,” Ashur nodded and turned away. He looked to a gray changeling who was currently rubbing at her horns, a dark scowl permanently etched on her stone face.  
“Lujain, do you forgive Niilo for nearly crushing you?”  
She pinned him with bright blood red eyes, before looking at Niilo who was bypassing orange and turning Vermilion.  
“If it means we can get on with this attack and thus leave this cave faster, I forgive Niilo, I’ll just kill him later.”  
The other changelings in their militia snickered darkly.  
“Wonderful!” Ashur grinned and clapped his hands together.  
“You heard her Sigurd, Let Niilo go, he’ll get his soon enough.”  
Reluctantly His brother let the changeling drop from his hands. Niilo hit the floor and gasped for air as he crawled as far away from Sigurd as possible.  
Ashur forced his smile to remain in place as he gripped Sigurd by his shoulder and led him away from the others. 

“Sigurd,” He lowered his voice, “I know that being in these caves are hard, but they’re hard on all of us. We can’t fight amongst ourselves, down here all we have is each other.”  
Sigurd gave off an unhappy puff of air, before looking at Ashur.  
“Go apologize, you don’t want the only thing between you and an enemy spear to be an embittered Niilo.”  
Shaggy red hair covered Sigurd’s eyes as he lowered his head to look at the orange changeling. Frowning he reluctantly nodded and strode back towards the Niilo.

Ashur watched him go and pressed his palms firmly into his eyes. Inhaling deeply he forced himself to slow down his heart rate.   
If all went well the scouting party would return soon, and fast at their heels the entirety of the Kruberan Army.

He exhaled slowly and opened his eyes again, looking to where Sigurd and Niilo were still exchanging words.  
His brows drew together as a sudden thought came over him.  
“Niilo! Come here.”   
Surprised the small changeling walked around Sigurd and moved towards him.  
“Yes Ashur?”  
“I’ve decided that you are going to be in the back lines during our fight.”  
Niilo’s eyes widened in protest,”No sir if this is about the cave in I promise i can do better let be in the front.”  
Ashur shook his head. “No, Your job will be in the back, It’s just as important as the front lines Niilo I can assure you of that.”   
Seeing that Niilo was still frustrated Ashur pulled the changeling closer and lowered his voice.  
“In battle things happen very quickly and when our shield wall moves forward, the back lines needs to pull all wounded out and terminate enemy soldiers that are still conscious. This is important because should we need to retreat, we cant be tripping over the fallen, do you understand?”  
Brown eyes filled with understanding, Reluctantly Niilo nodded.  
Ashur flashed him a wide smile, “Good, because you will be the one organizing the back lines.”

“What?”  
“Keep the tunnels clear by whatever means necessary and do it fast. Now Inari, the green changeling over there, you see her? Yes? Good, she will help you coordinate the back lines.”  
Ashur turned back to meet Niilo’s bewildered stare. “Good luck, brother. “ and with that he pushed him towards the other changelings.  
He turned around to see Sigurd looking at him critically. Sigurd raised a brow.  
“I didn’t want to risk it.” Ashur shrugged.  
His brother opened his mouth to say something snarky when A soft rumbling disrupted whatever he was going to say.

Ashur snapped to attention. 

“Arm yourselves! Fall in line NOW!” He barked at the others. Ashur shoved and maneuvered his way past the scrambling soldiers, as they hustled to fulfill his orders. Somewhere in the back of the cave, mingling with the sounds of sharpening steel and the hammering of iron, he could distinctly make out the growls and curses of his scouts. He picked up his shield and sword from where they lay against the cave wall and listened closely. 

The changeling scouts drew near, panting they quickly grabbed shields and fell into line.  
“The plan it worked Ashur, The Krubera are after us.” one whooped loudly.  
“How long before they are here?”  
As if in answer a Krubera Troll Roared its war cry.  
Their changelings fell into their lines, completely silent save for the soft sound of their breathing.  
Ashur stood next to Sigurd and gave the signal. At once the sound of hundreds of swords being pulled from their scabbards filled the air.

The rumbling of the cave grew louder.  
Now the fun begins  
Ashur drew his sword as the Krubera soldiers rushed in.


	13. We all must Serve

_ Silence leaves an impression. _

Darkness even more so.

In the endless gloom, it’s the steady echo of his footsteps and the slight erratic rasp of his own breathing that are the only sounds that he can identify as Stricklander tried his best to navigate through the narrow tunnels of the Salt Mine. Even with the advanced sight of his troll form, and the aid of the lumnus crystal, there was very little to see. 

Twenty paces.

In truth, He’d be hard pressed to remember just how long he’d been walking. The sound of Sadik dutifully shifting the Salt rock and other rubble that had caved in at the makeshift entryway had long since faded. And for the last forty, fifty or was it sixty? Paces there was nothing, nothing but the seemingly endless tunnel.

* * *

 

 

_ The blade of the axe broke through the salt wall with surprising ease. So much so that the force Walder put behind his swing sent him stumbling forward and into the crumbling wall with an awkward yelp. Behind him, Sadik smothered back a chuckle. Walder turned to snap at his mentor when he watched with horror as More rough stone collapsed and almost filled up the tunnel again. Almost, but not quite. Letting out a sigh of relief Walder stepped over to peer into the gap between the rubble. _

_ Sadik had not moved at all. His shoulders shaking with barely restrained laughter. _

_ “Do you think this is funny?” He snapped. _

_ “ Indeed my boy I think it is hilarious.” _ __   
_ “Why?” _ __   
_ “Because the same thing happened the first time I came here… although Quintus pushed me through the wall rather then simply let me knock it down.” _ __   
_ “I suppose I ought to be grateful you didn’t do the same?” Walder said crossing his arms across his chest. _ __   
_ Sadik laughed again, “It was tempting...Why young changelings never try to look for another path is beyond me.” _ __   
_ “Is there another path?” _ _   
_ __ “Who knows? No one has ever bothered looking.” Sadik’s Gold eyes met his through the wide gap.

_ “You realize that we’ve been separated right?” Walder growled, motioning to the rubble barrier. _

_ “Very astute my boy, nothing gets past you.” _

_ “Shouldn’t you be more concerned?!”  _

_ “Would you prefer it if I panicked?” _

_ He glared. From the other side he heard Sadik sigh. _

_ “I need you to go find the others, Walder.” _

_ “But…” _

_ “You made the decision... this is the result. Live with it. Go now while I clear the way here.” _

* * *

__   
  


 

Gingerly Walder continued to run his hand along the rough tunnel wall. His claws tingled as they scrapped against stone.

Ten more paces. 

Nine, eight, seven. He mumbled to himself, hoping that counting out loud would be enough to fill the silence. Within the tunnel the numbers rebounded off the walls back towards him. The slight distortion to his own voice was far too eerie and Walder snapped his mouth shut, the slight click of his fangs clipping together was louder than one of Ashur’s warhorns. 

He flinched. 

One.

Pausing, Stricklander pulled a blade from his cloak and with the back edge of his small axe, hammered it into the wall.

* * *

 

 

_ “Praise be to Gunmar!” _

 

_ “We all must serve.” _

 

_ His pickaxe chiseled into the rough stone. _

_ The sound echoed in the caverns of the Darklands, mingling with the hammering of tools from his fellow changelings. _

_ Again and Again. _

_ It’s the only thing that’s real. _

_ He’d been there chained to the others for as long has he could remember. His memories consisted of the violent scraping of steel against stone and the pained gasps and groans of his brothers and sisters. On occasion one would collapse and they’d be taken away never to be heard again. _

_ Sometimes he would wish that they had a name so that he could remember them by, other times he was grateful not to have known. Names are for the elite. Names are for changelings that have moved on from this place. Names are for those who have made themselves worth remembering. _

 

_ Right now they are all Nameless. _

_ In front of them, their Shadows flickered and danced across the wall. _

_ His axe does not stop moving. _

_ The muscles in his arms and back are screaming in protest. But the Superiors are watching and he dares not stop.  _

 

_ “Glory to Gunmar!” A Superior calls out from behind them. _

 

_ “Long shall he reign.” They answer, the reply eases out of his lips automatically. _

 

_ It’s then that another Superior, runs through their section and murmurs something to his fellow troll. _

_ The Gumm-gumm sneers and yanks on their chains. He’s in mid-swing when the collar at his throat tightens and sends him backward. _

_ “The Leader of the Changelings is on his way here for inspections, he might even choose one of you.” The troll announces, “You are to remain kneeling, until he decides, is that understood?” _

_ He tries desperately not to get excited but the prospect of leaving this place is almost too good to be true. _

_ No one responds and soon after the Head of the Janus order limped in. _

 

_ “Is this all of them?” The Grizzled changeling snarls looking at them with distaste. A younger changeling, His second in command, follows close behind. _

_ The Superior growls but doesn’t comment. _

_ “I have no use for any of these.” The changeling says not even bothering to look at him. _

_ Giving them one last look of disdain The Head of the Janus order turns to leave. _

_ “How disappointing.” _

 

_ The utter dread of watching opportunity slip by is physically painful. _

_ He can’t let it. _

_ Everything hurts. But even with his back and legs screaming in protest. He forces himself up from the kneeling position on the floor and though his spine is screaming in  protest He stands up straight. _

_ The General doesnt look back, but his second does. _

_ Gold eyes peer down at him carefully and the Changeling nudges his commander before pointing at him. _

 

_ “Quintus.”  _

 

_ “You’re sure, Sadik?” _

 

_ The changeling nods. With a growl the one called Quintus points to him. _

 

_ “He’ll do.” _

_ With that The Head of the Janus order limps away without sparing him another glance.  _

_ The other one, Sadik approaches. He flinches when Sadik raises his hand towards him. Relaxes, when he realizes that all the changeling did was rest his hand on his head. Feeling bold, he glanced up to meet the others gaze. Sadik looked thoughtful for a moment before pulling out a key and unlocked the chain along his neck.  _

_ It falls to the ground, In the dark the cold links glitter a silver blue. _

_ He stares at it surprised. _

_ The sensation of its weight dropping was the strangest he had ever felt, and he can’t quite stop himself from rubbing and fidgeting at his throat. _

_ Sadik simply stands there and gives him time to adjust to the feeling of being unbound. _

_ “What should I call you?” _

_ “This one has not earned a name, Sir.” _

_ “Well… until you’ve earned one how about I call you oğul?” _

_ He had no idea what the word meant, but he found himself nodding anyway. _

* * *

 

 

Walder shakes the memory away.

He pressed forward.

 

So lost in the effort of not getting lost in his thoughts, that it took Stricklander significantly longer than it should have, to notice that the lumnus crystal was losing light.

He worried at the crystal, the pale blue light flared and flickered briefly before dying completely.

Walder cursed.

Feeling his heart begin to pound against his chest.

Now was not a good time to panic. He fumbled at the cavern walls and taking deep steading breaths, kept moving on.

His mind jumped from thought to thought, like a stone skipping across a pond. Trapped inside the all encompassing darkness, there was little to focus on except memories.

* * *

 

  
  


_ Soft hands and warm smiles. _

_ He decides that The Nobleman Strickler, is a lot like Sadik. Strickland as the villagers where prone to call him, is a kind man, an honorable man, a decent man. He treats everyone one he meets with the same soft smile and calm voice. He’s patient. People tend to like him.  _

 

_ The Nobleman Strickler, is also very different than Sadik, in a lot of ways. Prone to bouts of Melancholy for no apparent reason. His health fluctuates with the seasons. And while  He dotes on his “son” in a way most find unsuitable for a man of his stature. He also manages to ignore his “son” at the same time, never truly bothering to take the time to know him. Its fine. _

_ The less the old man knows the better. _

 

_ His “Father” calls him Wally. Sometimes, he calls him Waltolomew when he wants to tease him, laughing at the name as it was some jest that he had shared with his deceased wife. Sometimes, the old man gets lost in the memories of his love and he’ll sit “Wally” on his lap and hold out a small painting of the woman who would have been his mother. _

_ He tries to understand, but how can one miss what one has never had? The only thing he feels when stares at the portrait is a strange, empty curiosity. The emptiness one gets when seeing their features, their eyes, glancing back at them from the face of a Stranger.  Occasionally, He almost feels guilty for depriving the man of his real son. But then he remembers what it was like down there in the Darklands. The rough tug of chains linked around his throat. The constant hammering of axes against stone walls. And the endless praises to Lord Gunmar ringing in his ears.  _

_ No. _

_ Lying is a small price to pay for having some semblance of freedom, and he decides to embrace it. _

_ Walter Strickler still feels guilty; but over time, as he begins to change as easily as his name does, it becomes easier to ignore. And sometimes he almost convinces himself that he doesn’t feel anything at all. _

* * *

 

It’s too dark.

He was breathing too fast. 

The tunnel felt like it was closing in on him. 

Roughly he placed his palms on the walls on either side of him hoping to stave off the sensation. It did not work.

He forced himself pause.

* * *

 

 

_ “You don’t have time to panic Stricklander, Panic and it’s over. Panic and you’re done.” Sadik lunged. Strickland barely managed to evade his mentors knife before Sadik was on him again. _

_ He gave a backhanded swing, and Sadik ducked under it, the blade of his longsword ricocheted off the wall of their small fighting space. Wincing he twisted around trying to regain control over its momentum. _

_ “What about rule number one?” _

_ “Fear is not panic, learn the difference.” Sadik warned. _

_ Intersecting his two knives, Sadik stepped forward as Walder swung the longsword at his middle, catching the sword in the cross-section of the blades, he brought his arms down and pulled the weapon downward as he used the force of Walders swing to make him lose balance. _

_ Strickland had a moment to realize that one of the knives was at his throat, before Sadik shouldered him in the ribs and he unceremoniously landed on his rear.  _

_ “Do you realize what you did wrong?” _

_ Disappointed he shook his head. _

_ Sadik kneeled in front of him. “Long swords are a poor weapon of choice in close quarters.” _

_ “You panicked, and acted without thought, ” The older changeling smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder “oğul, to panic is normal, but to act without thought is deadly. Next time take a moment to breathe, it will clear your head and make all the difference.”  _

_ Walder nodded and slowly got back up. _

_ He opened his mouth to speak, when Finnian ran inside the training room. _

_ “Sadik! It’s Quintus.”  _

_ “Has he recovered?” _

_ Finn paled and shook his head. “There was... a… a complication, the Order is gathering to determine what to do.” _

_ Finnian fidgeted from one foot to the other, clearly debating what to say, before he leaned in and whispered something in Sadik’s ear. Walder watched as his mentor suddenly looked ill. Taking in a deep breath, Sadik closed his eyes and nodded.  _

_ “We’re done for today Strickland.” _

* * *

 

It’s a droplet of water from the roof of the cave that brings him back to the present. Walder flinched, and pulled his hands back.

Sadik was right, the Salt Mine was a different sort of hell.

This place was playing tricks on him.

He sniffed at the damp air. Salt, nothing but Salt and dust and stale air and the brine water that was lapping at his ankles. And Yet Dark as it was, he could tell that there was something different about where he’d arrived, it was more spacious. Concentrating, Walder peered into the dark and there, slowly he could make out the outline of a bridge.

He blinked.

Walder realized what he was looking at and jumped up with a loud holler.

“Found it!”

The cavern echoed loudly.

Without hesitating, Walder made to head towards it. It was in that moment, just as his senses relaxed, that he tripped on something.

Stricklander crashed into the salted water with a loud yelp and a curse.

Sputtering Walder slowly got to his knees blinking salt water dripped into his eyes.

“Damn,” he muttered. He fumbled around for what it was that he ran into.

After a moment he found something somewhat large and smooth. “Damn.” He repeated frowning as he picked it up and felt it.

Whatever it was, it was not quite stone. There were little knicks and grooves in the surface that were familiar and yet he couldn’t quite place what it was. Shaking a his head Walder made to toss it, when for a brief moment, whatever it was that was in his hands gave a small spasm of light. So briefly that for a moment Stricklander thought he imagined.

 

It flickered gold.

Licking his lips Walder ran his hands along the salt encrusted object. The more he did so, the brighter it seemed to get.

“A ring?”

It took him longer than usual to realize what he was holding.

“A hand!”

With a surprised cry He dropped it. The skeletal hand crumbled to dust as it hit the water. The glowing ring splashed and rolled harmlessly onto the ground. It glowed brighter than before, almost happily, as if it were content to be free from the hand that had worn it.

Unease filled him and Walder’s first instinct was to leave the thing and continue to on as Sadik would have told him to do.

Curiosity overrode his caution, and he reached to pick up the ring again. It pulsed brightly. Holding it out Walder used its light to shine across the tunnel that he was in. The sight near the blocked entry of the bridge almost caused him to drop it again. 

Dressed in a faded and torn leather coat, a small malformed looking troll corpse sat half in and half out of the dark water and looked back at him through empty sockets. Walder crawled closer, the ring in his hand glowing brighter. Gently, he proaded the jacket, the light from the ring casted an unearthly glow on the trolls skull. 

Walder shivered.

Fumbling with the lapels of the jacket, and pushed it open. Within the inside lining of the coat, above a small pocket, a name barely legible had been stitched. Walder inched forward, eyes narrowed trying to read it.

_ Train… Trainu Nim? _

The familiarity of the name gave him pause as he registered the weight within the small pocket. 

 

“I’m Sorry,” Walder whispered, suddenly feeling the need to apologize to the dead troll, for rummaging through its pockets. His breath hitched as his fingers brushed against soft fabric. 

He pulled it out. Something small and round was wrapped within and Walder paused only for a moment before opening it. 

A small blue and black stone fell out into his palm.

For a  moment, it barely registered to him what he was currently holding. But the shape and color was all too familiar as was the unnatural dark energy that seemed to surround it. 

_ Gunmar’s Eye? _

 

Shock was overridden by Dread. The eye had never been with the Krubera, Ashur and the others had gone there for nothing.

He looked back into the face of Trainu. 

“How did you get this?” He whispered.

 

Trainu, as expected said nothing. 

 

Standing up Stricklander pocketed The Eye and used the ring to look at the bridge. He took only a couple of steps before something in his mind urged him to look back.

The remains of Trainu Nim sat miserably in the empty black tunnel and for a moment all he could feel was pity.

_ Not here _

The words flittered through his mind and  before he could stop himself, Walder strode back. Kneeling, Walder removed his cloak, he wrapped up the  trolls body and tied it together an a haphazard sack.

Shaking his head and wondering what sort of madness had overcome him, Walder moved the bundle to the side and of the cave and looked at the stones blocking opening of the bridge. 

It was time to get the others. Taking his axe, he stared down at the rocks and gave a humorless laugh.

“We all must serve.”

He raised the axe and brought it down.


	14. Ashur v. Krubera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence, Some Cursing, not much.

The ground trembles violently beneath their feet.

Vibrant shades of varying colors. Resplendent against the pitch black walls of the cavern. The sharp steel of their weapons glinting blue in the darkness. A river of light in Perpetual motion, The Kruberan soldiers charged with great speed.

_ It might almost be pretty _ , Ashur thought,  _ if they weren’t here to kill us. _

To his right, Ashur can hear the sharp intake of air from one of his soldiers as they tried to control their fear.

“Hold your Position!!!” Sigurd screamed at the changelings.

The air of the cave is filled with restless energy. The changelings shift in their stance but do not break the line.

They are closer now.  

Ashur barely noticed, focusing entirely on slowing his racing heart.

From the corner of his peripheral, He watched Sigurd give the signal.

 

Behind him, the sound of knives striking stone together as one resounded in the cold cavern. Without hesitating Ashur and the rest of the changeling frontline took to one knee. The sharp sudden glow of the Lumnus crystals flaring in brilliant unison caught the charging trolls completely off guard. Pained cries rose from their mouths, as the Krubera staggered backwards, completely blinded.

_ Breathe. _

_ Inhale. _

_ Exhale. _

“Archers!” Ashur called out Raising his sword up into the air, as the Krubera struggled to regain their senses, crashing into each other in their effort to retreat.

 

“Nock! Draw!”

 

The tunnel behind the Trolls ruptured with Light. The retreating soldiers wailed in surprise. 

 

_ Seems our swimmers made it through,  _ Ashur thought.

The tip of his blade came down to point at the doomed soldiers.

“LOOSE!!”

 

A tempest of arrows skirled through the air, and the cavern filled with screams.

* * *

 

 

It was a butchery.

Again and again the Krubera militia had surged forward. Again and again the changeling lines  faced them. Finally,They had managed to push back the Krubera and There was a lull in the trolls advance.

For this Ashur was grateful. Because the Krubera soldiers constantly showing up in endless waves was starting to, in his opinion, get annoying.

Sparks fly near his face as an axe surged forward, scraping the metal rim of his shield, as Ashur raised it protectively.

Frustrated, the Troll cursed as Ashur pranced out the way.

 

“Oh don’t mind me,” Ashur panted. “ I’m looking for Gunmar’s eye you wouldn’t happen to have seen it?”

“Give it up Impure.” The Krubera Troll snarled.

With a smile, Ashur raised his sword in front of him. “Now, now we mustn’t keep what isn’t ours.” 

 

Growling,The Troll took a violent swing at him.

The air whistled loudly as the sharp blade sailed past his head, Twisting out of the way Ashur moved behind the Guard and brought his sword in a low arc down the trolls right calf and up and across into the back of his left thigh. 

The Krubera cried out in pain and he fell to his knees. Ashur unsheathed the dagger on his belt behind his back and in one swift movement sunk it deep into the back of the guards head. The Troll greyed and crumbled.

He ducked in time as A Krubera spear snapped too close to his face for his liking. Awkwardly, Ashur tripped on the slick dark effluvium gore that coated the cavern floor and beat away the shaft with his blade. Spinning, he swung his shield up into the chin of his opponent with a violent crack, wincing as the force of the blow sent painful tremors up his arm. Krubera grunted and stumbled backwards, his arms windmilling and exposing his torso. Without a second thought Ashur lunged forward sinking his sword deep into the soldiers middle. 

 

His lungs feel as if they are on fire, and Ashur found himself gasping for air.

_ How long have we been fighting? _

The weight of the shield is getting heavier with every movement and all he can hear are the wails and moans of dying soldiers.

Ashur paused briefly and Next to him a changeling screamed in agony as the shaft of a  spear powered through their shield and pined it to their chest. Flinching back He cursed. They have advanced too far within the cave.

Acting quickly he dropped his shield and pulled the wounded soldier back to the main force.

 

“Clear the tunnel now!” He commanded handing off the changeling to the others, “Pull back!”

“The rear is clear,” Lujain panted as she  pushed her way into the front line, sending him an ugly look as he grinned at her words.

“I… I think… We should push forward.”

“No,” Ashur shook his head wearilly.

“Stick to the plan, keep drawing them out, the tunnel is too small for them to send a sizable force. ”

He rolled his eyes as the cave gave a familiar rumble. 

 

“Royal Guards!” Sigurd warned.

 

_ They’ve run out of soldiers. _

Ashur grinned at the sudden realization. 

“Why are you smiling?!” Sigurd screamed at him in horror.

Ashur walked backwards towards the changeling front.

. “We’re close! Tell the Archers fourth line forward!”

Sigurd’s blue eyes flared yellow as he realized Ashur’s intent.

The Trolls were closing the distance.

“Shield Wall now!” Sigurd commanded, handing a shield to Ashur as they both re-entered the front line.

For once since this whole battle started the weight of the shield felt solid and strong, Ashur raised his voice “Shields together!” 

The clanking of wood echoed through his ears as the changelings moved in unison.

“Archers!”

Behind him he could hear the others pull arrows from their quivers.

“Nock!”

The cave vibrated with the sounds of the Guards footfalls. The lights emitting from them, bright in their approach.

“Draw!!”

 

“Third line Open Shields!” Sigurd called out and immediately the third line of shields protecting the upper bodies  of the changelings swung open allowing room for the archers to aim.

 

The eyes of the Krubera trolls widened in fright as they realized what was happening, some tried to backtrack but it was too late to halt their advance.

 

“LOOSE!!!”

 

The arrows hissed through the air as they were released, the sound mixing with the cries of shock and pain that rose from the Krubera Guards.

 

“Nock, Draw! Loose!”

The soldiers that weren’t hit by the first wave of arrows, were taken down by the second release. The Krubera  staggered and tripped over the bodies of their fallen and cave was filled with the choked final gasps of the dying.

 

“Lock shields!” Ashur cried out, “ With me! We move as one! Forward Advance!”

A great chant arose from the changelings as they pressed forward.

“Advance!”

Panicking a Krubera soldier lunged forward, his spear flying between two shields of their defensive wall taking a changeling in the throat.

They were taking too many loses.

 

Angered Ashur screamed, “I SAID LOCK SHIELDS! 

“CLOSE THOSE FUCKING GAPS!” 

 

“Close the Gaps!” Sigurd commanded as he moved next to him, “Keep the wall tight!”

 

Again and again the changeling advanced in unison, pushing the remains of the Kruberan force back from where they had come, straight into the Royal Hall.


	15. The Royal Hall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some violence

 For Walder Strickland, the work went on and on.  For hours he chiseled away at blockade near the base of the bridge. The darkness was getting to be unbearably oppressive. The weight of the black stillness was making it difficult to breathe much less focus on the task at hand. Against his better judgment, Strickland’s thoughts began to wander again.

 _Changelings by their nature are lonely creatures. Mistrusted by the entirety of the Troll world for their mere presence, and unable to reveal themselves to the humans, The Impure brethren endure their existence as best they can. Finding little joys in what they could freely obtain on the surface world. Sometimes even enjoying the relationships they developed with the humans… to an extent of course. In this Stricklander was no exception. Long lived as the changelings are, attachments are pointless. Human lives are wretched things, doomed to be unbearably short and useful only in what little information they could provide to further Gunmar’s glory. When things begin to go further than they should_ , _He did what changelings were trained to do, he broke off ties. Cut the knot so to speak, and watched as human faces and their names scattered across time and rolled into the darkest corners of his memories never to be brought up again. So he moved on.  And eventually he forgot what those people even looked like. Or at least he tried._

Walder stared at the shadows, his mind racing, his thoughts a nauseating jumble of suspicion and anger and guilt. All the while his pickaxe rose and fell.

_“What is troubling you?”_

_He’s known her for years now, this small quiet girl that has grown into a brilliant, confident young woman. Her Father was a wealthy Praetor of Rome, and he had hired Stricklander in spite of his apparent youth to tutor his only child as a way to rid himself of his childrearing duties. Bored as he was waiting for Sadik to give him an assignment of importance, Walder resigned himself to taking on the position as a way to mitigate the monotony of his existence and found, to his surprise, that teaching was one of the few things he could honestly enjoy.  Now having received a missive from Sadik stating that Gunmar was marching on the Fleuven Trolls and that this particular Gallic clan was in the Gumm-Gumm’s way, Strickland regretted his impatience. For standing in front of him was one of the few humans he would consider one of his favorites. She tilts her head up at him, confusion laden in her soft gaze, and Walder realizes he had not answered her and he’s been staring at her for too long._

_“You have to leave, they’re coming.” He wants to say, but the words won’t come out. Swallowing the warning Stricklander gives what he hopes is a convincing smile, brushes off her inquiries, congratulates her on her recent nuptials, refuses to look her in those kind brown eyes as he says his farewells  and walks away. He gives Sadik as many excuses as he can as to why he cannot be a part of the raid. Sadik for his part accepts the lies easily, giving an understanding nod and does not force the issue as Gunmar no doubt wanted him to. For this Walder is grateful. When the Gumm-gumm horde swept through the village he makes a point to not to look to see if she survived, more for his own sake than anything, he doesn’t want to know the answer afraid of what the knowledge might do to him._

Against his will Walder was bombarded with Furtive, incoherent memories of blood and burning villages and Gunmar the Black, standing dark and cold against scarlet light with rage and death flickering behind his vicious golden eye. Walder shuddered and forced the imagery from his head and paused to catch his breath.

“All this for just an eye, especially one that isn’t even where it’s supposed to be, though I imagine we have you to thank for that, don’t we?” He asked glancing over at Trainu slumped in the corner. Rubbing at his forehead, Walder winced as his shoulder gave an audible pop, and worried vaguely at how comfortable he was at venting to a corpse.

Trainu, as was her custom, remained silent.

“Typical.” Walder huffed, before raising the pickaxe over his head again.

A soft rumble echoed from the bridge. He paused suddenly on edge.

Cracks and fissures of lit up along the runes of the Passage. Various colors flickered and sparked filling the cave with magical energy. Surprised Walder ducked as, with a sudden defining roar the Bridge burst opened with a blazing force.

Trapped as long as he had been within the darkness even the tiniest fragment of light was terrible to witness. Briefly blinded Strickland rubbed at his eyes trying to readjust his vision, opening his eyes in time to witness a small figure jumping through the bridge and leapt straight into his chest.

“Stricklander!”

Blinking back tears, Walder focused at the shadow flickering in front of him, gripping the offending figure with all the strength that he had.

“Ow. Ow. Ow,” The tiny being struggled in his hold.

“Ni…Nikko?” He rasped recognizing the voice as he began to regain his sight.  
“Niilo. It’s Niilo.”

“What is going on?”

The changeling shifted and pointed a Horngazel towards the open bridge and Walder could feel his jaw drop at the sight.

Chaos, the scene before him was absolute chaos.

The remaining Forces of the Krubera were locked in a heated battle against Ashur’s invading army, and they were losing. King Aaryan fought fiercely, despite having lost his weapons; he swiped and jabbed at the changeling line, his great overlarge body constantly shifting between colors of red and gold.

For all their renown of fighting prowess the actions of the remaining guards were the most surprising. Instead of moving in unison to back the enraged monarch, the Kruberan Royal guard instead chose to fall back to form a protective barrier around a troll that appeared to be the princess. The other Royals were left to fend for themselves and in the ensuing bedlam a spear had found its way into the Kruberan Queen’s chest.

 

Howling in anguish the Troll grabbed the nearest changeling and wrenched them from the front line. Panic set in as soon as he recognized who it was. Without thinking he let go of Niilo. Strickland ran into the royal hall watching in horror as in a fit of rage King Aaryan threw a punch straight into Ashur’s chest, sending the changeling straight into the wall with a resounding crash.

Visibly Gasping for air Ashur barely managed to scramble away as the The Krubera King moved faster than should have been possible and was almost on top of him. Quickly Ashur turned to move away only to realize he’d been walled in.

The remaining guards moved to block his path. Briefly Strickland observed intelligent violet eyes peered at him curiously before the princess slipped away from her protectors in their distraction.

Screeching to a halt, Walder back tracked from the trolls as he realized with a sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to get there on time. He twisted around to witness King Aaryan take out and aim his dagger straight at his friends’ heart.

Everything slowed as The Kings arm came down in a slow arc.  

An unarmed Krubera suddenly launched forward.

Walder flinched as the last thing he saw was a massive fist aiming straight at his face, and as darkness overwhelmed him all he heard was the echo of a blade making contact resounding through the cavern walls.


	16. Heir to the Throne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some violence, and gore

There was no pain.

That was the first thing that he registered.

 _If this is dying_ Ashur thought to himself, _than this isn’t so bad_. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and looked down. To his surprise the King’s dagger had not made contact, it had stopped barely a hair width away from his chest. Confused at his apparent good luck, Ashur looked up and immediately regretted the decision as he let out a horrified gasp.

_Ohhh good lord_

The blade that was protruding out of the Kings Mouth was a ghastly sight to behold.

The lines of his royal face had cracked horribly and the light in his eyes were fading far, far too slowly. The red and gold light of his body pulsated weakly and the blade in his massive hand clattered to the floor.

 With a sickening sound the dagger was pulled free and Ashur pressed himself closer to the wall in surprise as the corpse of the once Ruler of the Krubera Trolls shattered as it hit the ground.

A delicate sniff broke him from his shock.

He looked up and Ashur could only stare as the Krubera princess admired her blade with an air of nonchalance coming off of her as she nudged at the remains of her father with a foot.

Ashur blinked in astonishment. For a moment he couldn’t quite believe what he just witnessed. She met his gaze with a cold satisfied smile.

The sight sent a chill through him.

She stepped forward, and Ashur twisted away, jumping nimbly over the corpses of fallen trolls in an effort to put as much distance between them as possible. The Janus order moved forward, the remains of their shields at the ready.

She laughed.

“Is that any way to thank me for saving your life?” The princess asked turning to gaze at him.

‘I… I… what?” Ashur stuttered.

She smiled again as if she had not just stabbed her father in the back.

 “I’m afraid you all came down here for nothing” The princess spoke as she strode forward to stand in front of her father’s Throne. “The eye of Gunmar was stolen years ago, by the Thief Trainu Nim and her crew, it’s long gone.”

The Royal guard moved to stand loyally at her side, seeming unsurprised by the strange turn of events. Completely confused, Ashur looked to his changelings for support. Sigurd had paled considerably and Ashur could see that His fellow brothers and sisters looked as lost as he felt.

_So … this was all for nothing._

 “Worry not Impure, I will ensure that you do not return to your Master empty handed.” The princess said seeming to sense their despair.

“I know of your masters plans for the surface world. I find them to be fitting.  The humans are too curious for their own good. They have grown in numbers and I do not care for their species in the least. When the time comes I will show my support to Gunmar, if… he leaves the Krubera tribe alone. That is it. Those are my terms.”

Ashur huffed, “What about the Trollhunter?”

“Deya and I do not see eye to eye.”

“Oh.” Ashur murmured feeling foolish.

“I have no intention of having my people being led to war by some foreign troll. My parents would have. They had no head for strategy, I told them Gunmar would come looking for his eye, and that they should be prepared, but my warnings fell on deaf ears” She said moving into a separate space behind the throne. The coldness in her voice spoke volumes.

“I believe Gunmar and I are natural allies, and a sign of good faith.” She came back holding a small Krubera whelp in her arms. “This is my brother Aarghaumont, you make take him back with you.”

She tossed the whelp towards him and Ashur instinctively moved to catch him.

“Why should I believe you Princess?” He asked through gritted teeth, trying maintaining his distance from her and holding the struggling babe in his arms.

“Usurna.”

“What?”

“That is my name, Impure.”

“Ashur… not Impure... My Name is Ashur.” He snapped.

She favored him with a thoughtful glance. “Ashur it is then.”

“I repeat myself Usurna, why should I believe you?”

“Aarrrgh, is the heir apparent and I refuse to be sidelined by the Tribunal, Ashur.” Ursurna snapped, losing her composure for the briefest of moments. “My claim of leadership must be the only one.”

Incredulous Ashur stepped forward. “You did all this…. just to be a Queen?!”

_No … no there has to be more to it than that._

“No Ashur, I did all of this to be The Queen.”

_You’re insane_

He was Speechless.

In his hold The Krubera whelp grew restless.

“Go give Gunmar my terms,” Usurna stated turning back to face her father’s seat. “When the time comes the Krubera will stand with him.”

Ashur said nothing.

“And if he decides that an alliance isn’t for him, Tell him that he can’t afford another battle such as this, and if he tries again… I want him to know I'll be better prepared than my parents… and he will not succeed.”

The Krubera in his arms whimpered, softening his hold, Ashur gently rocked the infant to sleep. He carefully walked back to his soldiers, Eyeing Usurna suspiciously the whole time. Sigurd’s blue eyes looked lost and weary and the rest of the changelings were clearly unsure of how to react.

“Let’s Go.” Ashur breathed tiredly.

As his siblings made to march on, Ashur turned to give one last glance behind.

Usurna strode up the steps, the vibrant blues and purples of her coloring glowed brightly as she moved to sit on her ancestral throne. A proud smile lay on her face. The remains of the Royal guard saluted silently, the bodies of her soldiers and her parents scattered on the ground, seemingly forgotten.

What an image she struck. The new Kruberan Queen.

The thought filled Ashur with dread.


	17. First of his kind

He drifts along on a sea of sensations. The gentle creaking of straining rope. The sharp scent of ash and smoak lay heavily in the air. Eventually though it was the stinging on the left side of his face that finally woke him.Gingerly, Walder rolled his leaden head and winced as he managed to force his eyes open. As his eyes adjusted, he focused on the slowly meandering dust particles in the damp air. Never had he expected to be relieved to see the glinting emerald and black unpolished marble, the rough cold stone of the Darklands as familiar to him as his human form. With a groan Walder lifted himself from his cot and looked around the Gumm-gumm infirmary.

Not a few steps away Sadik was standing in front of the large hearth prodding at the fire with a staff. Tendrils of the flickering flame sparked upward washing Sadik and the surrounding rock in a pale gold light. Seemingly lost in thought, the older changeling massaged the back of his neck.

 

Shifting around Walder sat up completely, trying to ignore the throbbing pulsating pain in his head, the cot creaked in protest.

Alerted to the sound Sadik turned around and observed him a bit before he sent him a pleased smile.

“You’re awake.”

“Looks like it.”

 

Sadik stopped prodding at the fire and strode over. Sitting at the edge of his cot, he eyed him critically before reaching over and gently cupped Walders chin, turning his face to the side. Strickland winced at the contact, and Sadik chuckled.

“The guard’s blow was well struck my boy, you’re going to be feeling it for a while longer. I think you should relearn how to duck.”

 

“Wonderful.” He replied surly, crossing his arms in a pout.

 

“You gave me quite the scare Stricklander, you’ve made it a habit of getting yourself dragged out of battles unconscious and I don’t care for it boy, I don’t care for it at all.” Changelings tone was firm but his golden eyes flickered with relief as he moved to momentarily ruffle Strickler’s hair.

 

“What happened to the others?”

“Only a handful of casualties, much smaller than we expected.”

“Ashur?” Walder tried to get up only to be stopped by Sadik.

“He’s alright.”

“Good.” Strickland let himself relax. After a moment's pause he added, “Don’t tell him I was worried, He’ll never let it go.”

Sadik chuckled. “He will not hear of it from me, I promise.”

“How did we get out?”

Sadik frowned and glanced back at the flames. “It’s… it is complicated, I cannot discuss it at the moment.”

“Oh.” He replied irritated yet too weary to try to argue. With a soft pained, noise, Stricklander moved over to the side of the cot.

 

“You were right.”

“Hm?”

 

“The Salt Mines were a nightmare. I don’t even know how to describe it.” He sighed and rubbed at his eyes hissing as his hand brushed against the bruised side of his face.

Tutting in disapproval Sadik gently grabbed his hands and pried them away from his face.

 

“Consider yourself lucky you did not get lost. Quintus did, Quintus was trapped there for days. It took me forever to track him down and drag him up to the surface.” Sadik said softly. “Not that it did him any good, he lost his damn mind.” He gave a half- hearted kick at the black stone in front of him, before he rubbed at his neck.

 

“And for what? We didn’t find the eye then and we most certainly did not find it now… I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you went through that for nothing.”

 

“I wouldn’t say it was for nothing.”

“Hm?”

Walder grinned, and fumbled inside his cloak, and pulled out the small cloth. The Head of the Janus order gave him a curious look before he took the cloth, the Eye of Gunmar gingerly rolled out into his open palm. Walder’s smile widened as Sadik’s face dawned with astonished recognition.

 

“My boy, you never cease to surprise me.”

“Is that so?” He asked puffing out his chest as he sent Sadik a smirk.

The changeling rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, but don’t let the compliment go to your head, you still have a lot to learn.”

* * *

 

 

“The first wave of the new changeling replacements are ready for inspection” Sadik was saying as they slowly made their way down to the deepest depths of the Darklands.

 

The sound of their footsteps and the steady drip of water being their only companions. Feeling the slight chill of the great dark world Strickland pulled his cloak tighter around him, against his chest the strange ring he had acquired in the Salt mines seemed to pulse unhappily. He tried to ignore it.

 

“Stricklander? Oğul?” 

 

“Apologies, Sir.” Walder replied.

Scratching at his greying beard Sadik did not seem pleased, “Are you certain you are fine to go down to the Pits? I know it may be hard to deal with so soon after the Salt Mines.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Certain?”

Stricklander gave a small smile. “Yes.”

Despite not being entirely convinced the General nodded.

Taking a deep breath they passed through the opening of the Pits.

 

Almost immediately he was bombarded with the sounds of pickaxes striking hard stone, and the rattling of chains. He could almost feel the cold metal against his own throat. Swallowing thickly he pressed forward after Sadik. 

The changelings strained at their bonds as they worked. Feeling uneasy Walder purposely looked at everything but them, choosing instead to look at the two over large Gumm-gums that were growling at a small round changeling holding a bundle of blankets. 

Suppressing a groan Walder recognized Bular as he casually sharpened his sword far too close to the nervous changeling.

 

“Where are the rest of them?” 

 

“They can wait for another day.”

 

“Explain.”Gunmar spat.

 

“There … well there was an unusual development with one of the new changelings.” Astrid stuttered, her nervous eyes flying between Sadik and Gunmar, begging the Head of the Janus Order for help.

 

“The spell that is used to bond a changeling and its familiar is only designed to be used once. The residual effects of the spell can last far longer than the lifespan of the changeling. Reusing the familiar has had some unexpected consequences.”

 

“Speak plainly or lose your tongue Impure We do not have the patience to listen to your blathering.” Bular growled.

 

“Well,” Astrid jumped away from the trolls and placed the bundle she was holding onto the stone table and softly unwrapped it. 

Inside, small and round a whimpering changeling waved its fists in the air. Yet there was something odd about it, the size and color of its hands kept on changing.  

Exchanging a look, both Sadik and Walder stepped forward.

 

“It’s a freak.” Bular snapped looking at the whelp in disgust.

“A polymorph. The first one ever,” Astrid corrected wringing her hands.

 

“He does not take the form of his intended Familiar but instead is always altering his features, though he cannot seem to hold any form for long.” 

 

“An impure that can not hold a permanent form is useless to me.” Gunmar snarled swiftly moving to smash the struggling creature.

 

“Wait!” Strickland said suddenly without thought, only to be pulled back roughly by Sadik whose gold eyes flared red as he shook his head in warning.

 

His intervention came too late as with a violent roar Gunmar turned and rushed at them, the Decimar blade suddenly forming in his open palm.

 

Walder flinched back as Sadik stepped in front of him, ignoring the sword at his throat and the Angry troll holding it. In the background Bular grinned.

The silence in the Pit was deafening in the moment where the two merely squared off.

 

“Stricklander speaks far too freely,” Gunmar growled sending an accusing glare at Sadik. “A trait he no doubt learned from you.”

Sadik gave no response, simply stared back.

Irritated, the Gumm-gumm snorted and removed the blade from his Generals Throat.

 

“You think this ill formed impure is worth saving? Fine then his fate is tied to yours Stricklander. Fail to teach him to control his morphing abilities and I will kill you both.” 

 

Sneering The Lord of the Darklands grabbed his son and stalked out of the Pit.

“That could have gone better.” Walder murmured giving Sadik an apologetic glance. The older changeling shook his head wearily and moved over to where the polymorph lay on the stone table.

 

Taking the struggling whelp, Sadik gave him a once over before nodding to himself and plopping it into Strickland's arms.

 

“Oof.”

 

“Here oğul, treat him nicely and perhaps one day he’ll serve you as loyally as you have me.”

 

The small changeling looked at him with features that were relentlessly fluctuating. The sight was a bit unnerving, and regretting his interference Stricklander looked to Sadik hoping for some guidance.

 

“What do I do now?”

 

“You can start by giving him a name.”

 

He looked down at the squirming runt and sighed. “Aren’t you  _ fortunate _ , in my day we had to earn a name.”

 

Glancing back to Sadik, “how does Otto sound?”


	18. Lions and Cradles

The flame of his torch made his shadow climb up the cavern walls in a disturbing manner, or at least once he would have found the imagery to be disturbing. Now instead Ashur ignored his strange black reflection and set his sights to more real things. The slowly rocking cradle that was within arms reach from him. Placing his torch into a low hanging bracket on the face of the stone wall, he moved close to the rocker and pulled it slowly towards him.

 

Ashur leaned over the rim to glance inside. Black eyes opened to peer up at him in happy recognition.

“Hello tiny, did you miss me?” Ashur whispered softly as he lifted his familiar up out of his crib. The babe gave a wide toothless grin and reached over to grasp at his beard. Chuckling, Ashur pulled the child close into a hug. “Of course you did, I missed you as well.” 

“Didn’t I tell you that I’d come see you first? And look here I am.”

 

In reply the his familiar cooed and poked at his clothing. Ashur winced as his still bruised chest flared up in protest.    
“Careful little one,  I’m afraid I’m not quite myself yet,” He said gently grabbing his familiars proding digits and moving them away. 

Taking a step back Ashur leaned against the Nursery wall and allowed himself sit down. 

 

“Anything new with you? Meet any new familiars since i’ve been gone?” Ashur asked cheerfully bouncing his familiar on his legs. The baby said nothing and simply giggled up at him once again making to grab ahold of his beard.

“No I suppose not.” He leaned his head back as he smiled.

 

“I almost forgot,” Ashur said cheerfully reaching into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a large wooden lion.

“Look at what I brought you,” He smirked as his familiars eyes went round before it reached for the toy. 

 

“I saw it at a wharf and I said to myself, I said,’ Ashur, you know who’d like this.’” He said dancing the lion in front of baby. 

His Familiar patted at the gift curiously before giving a delighted squeal. “That’s right you.”

 

“The wharf was in Rome by the way, the empire I told you about before?” 

He rested his head against the wall with a sigh, “I’d think you’d love it, If we ever get the chance when this war is over I’d love to show it to you one day.”

The small babe yawned and continued waving the lion back and forth, completely ignoring Ashur. 

“No to Rome? No matter we will have plenty of time to figure out what to see.”

 

Noticing that his familiars eyes were beginning to droop Ashur stood and placed the infant back into his cradle, tenderly wrapping him back up in his blankets, smiling as the child clutched the toy lion closer as he drifted off to sleep.


	19. See it built

He’s in the middle of writing the names of the “new” changelings when he hears it. That faint high pitched noise that only changelings seem capable of hearing. He jerked his head and involuntarily clenches his fists as it steadily grows louder. She is demanding to be heard.  Moving to the furthest corner of his stone chambers, Sadik forces himself to listen. 

It, she, the lady, the witch, with a thousand voices hisses and rasps out her instructions from behind the grotesquely empty and soulless features of an old theater mask. He can't quite believe what she’s saying and He wants to twist away as the voices grow to an unbearable pitch but instead Sadik swallows thickly as he jots down her words as quickly as he can, the implication behind them making his hands shake. 

This is it. Gunmar will be pleased.

 

“See it built.” She whispers. 

 

“See it built,” are Her final words before the buzzing goes away and Sadik is left there to stare numbly at the plain and simple mask, its features no longer twisted into a gruesome smile devoid of real feeling.

Sadik looks to her words and then back to the mask before taking a few steps backward and then sprinting as fast as he can towards Gunmar’s war room.

  
  


“The Pale Lady... she wants us to build a bridge.” Sadik tells Gunmars Generals reluctantly.

 

“That is what we are doing impure,” Dysis sneered before taking a swig of her tankard. “You come here uninvited to speak on things of which have already been decided.”

“I have no wish to speak on your ill conceived plans Dysis, I am merely here to relay The Creator’s message.” Sadik snapped back at her before he shook his head. The pain caused by the Pale lady’s voices forced his tone to take a sharper inflection than he had intended.

 

Seething The Troll rose to her full height to glare at him, “You will speak to me with respect you filthy little-”

“Be silent Dysis!” Gunmar roared, his outburst cutting her off.

 

“Speak Sadik and Tell me exactly what the Pale Lady said.”

 

“The creator said that Your time is soon at hand my Lord. Soon your armies will Defeat the champion of daylight and you will usher in a new era of Eternal Night which will descend upon the world.”

 

Gunmar looked unimpressed and leaned back into his massive throne. 

 

“And? What does this have to do with the bridges we are rebuilding?”

 

“Forgive me, Lord Gunmar but she said Bridge not Bridges.”  Feeling a bit bolder, Sadik stepped closer to look the Gumm-Gumm in the eye, “In order for her vision to become a reality, a bridge must be built, not just any bridge, one powerful enough to transport your entire army to one location.”

 

At this Dysis snorted and rolled her eyes,“That's impossible.” 

 

In a rare show of comraderie the rest of the the War council began to murmur in agreement.

 

"Gunmar, surely you do not believe this nonsense, there is no magic strong enough to create a portal that powerful.”

Dysis stood up slamming her fist against the great stone floor. The force of the blow vibrated throughout the chamber.

 

“Even if it was built? Who is to say that the Trollhunter will not find a way to destroy it?” 

She continued, “My Lord to rest the success of your campaign on the word of that sorceress is too risky, please let us continue with the original plan. Multiple bridges, should one be destroyed another can be used.”

For the longest while Gunmar said nothing. His one good eye flickered from Dysis to Sadik, studying each one.

“We will do as the Sorceress says, Your changelings will be the architects of this bridge… See it Built, Sadik.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy that took forever. XD This is officially the end of this story, The last installment of this series is  
> "Deliverance" so check that out when it comes. The Sun, The Line, and The Cave was loosely inspired by Plato's allegory of the cave, and is the sequel to The Fall of Damascus. 
> 
> Special Thanks to all those who read this, I appreciate it! Especially a3rie, you're wonderful darling!


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